


My Blessing

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman, Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Estrangement, Family Drama, Forgiveness, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 02:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17634077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Robin Mask has doubts about Kevin's relationship with Warsman.He struggles to give his blessing . . .





	My Blessing

“I am simply concerned.”

Robin sat in the leather armchair. It creaked beneath his weight, while his cape caught behind him as he leaked back against the cool material, and he cocked his head towards the couple that sat side-by-side on the matching sofa just opposite. They held their hands between them, as a cold quiet descended over the lounge. A low ticking of the clock marked the time. It echoed out and erased all other sounds, until Robin cleared his throat.

A callused thumb ran circles on Kevin’s palm, as Kevin sought to avoid all gazes. He fixed his eyes at a distant spot within the room, where – even behind the mask – a visible wince betrayed the depths of his conflict, and his hand tightened upon Warsman. There were visible sweat-stains around the neck and armpits of his pink t-shirt, while his large muscles tensed until veins showed along his forearms, and Robin resisted the urge to chastise him for his unkempt appearance and unnecessary nervousness. Kevin spat out:

“Oh, _now_ you show concern.”

“What do you mean by that, my boy?”

“I mean that you stole my childhood from me,” said Kevin. “You spent every minute making sure I was training or involved in medical tests or studying, but not once did you care about my emotional well-being or my spiritual health. Now I finally make my relationship with Warsman public, but suddenly you decide that you have an input to my personal choices?”

“There is a forty-three year age gap, Kevin! Do you forget I trained Warsman? He was my friend before your mother and I even considered _having_ a son. Are you aware of his past? His trauma? Do you truly feel equipped to be in a relationship with such an adult?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I _am_ an adult.”

“And do you want the same things? I imagine you seek to travel and try new things, but there comes an age when one wishes for marriage and children and a stable environment. Ah, but – saying that – Warsman has never wanted children, has he? The offspring that would resent him for passing on his curse . . . do you want children, Kevin?”

Kevin jumped. He stood tall, with hands fisted at his sides, and his nostrils flared. The stare he sent – with narrowed eyes and a flush to his skin – was focused with a cold intensity that sent a shiver through Robin, and it lingered for several long seconds. Kevin spun around. He issued a low scoff, as his hair drifted out behind him, and he kept his back to both men. The ticking clock proved uncomfortable, as it kept time with Robin’s heart. Kevin slumped forward, before he shook his head with a low and callous laugh, and said in a low voice:

“I believe this conversation is over.”

The footsteps that followed were hard and heavy. Kevin marched to a nearby door, before he flung it open and stormed inside the room beyond, and – with a loud slam – the door blocked off all sight of his estranged son. A snatch of a tune played, as a radio was turned on. It was soon muted as someone turned the volume low. Robin sighed and turned to face Warsman, who sat with perfect posture and poise on the sofa cushions. He asked:

“What are your intentions with my son?”

A soft flinch passed over Warsman, who reached for a mug of tea. The steam from the liquid drifted over his face, casting small clouds about his eyes that obscured his reaction, and a low hum escaped his lips, as he blew at the surface through his face-plate. Warsman swirled the contents, before he took a long and slow sip. Robin remained silent. A series of low and soft breaths followed, until Warsman put down the mug with a soft click of ceramic on glass, and he leaned back with his legs crossed over the knees. Warsman responded with:

“You doubt my intentions, Robin?”

“No,” confessed Robin. “I know you too well that you would not harm Kevin, even if only due to our friendship and your respect for me, but that does very little to alleviate my doubts regarding this relationship. Is this merely physical? You age far slower than other _Chojin_ , after all. Is it short-term? Is it long-term? This also puts me in an awkward position.”

“I can understand it must make you uncomfortable, for our friendship has led to many shared confidences and experiences, but – I can assure you – I see no conflict of interests. I would not divulge your secrets, any more than you would divulge mine. The only change in our friendship would be that I owe a degree of loyalty to Kevin, as such I must keep private anything said to me in confidence. If I must be honest, we gave thought little to the future.

“We wish to process our emotions and discover our desires over time. We will discuss and compromise on all matters, but those are concerns yet to come, and for now we simply wish to be together. I left after my time as Chloe, as I thought he would reject me, but I spent every moment watching over him from afar . . . I do not wish to be far away anymore.”

“So you are in love with him?”

A few stray tears pricked at his eyes. They primarily formed on his organic eye, with the robotic one – although perfectly matched – dry in a surreal piece of asymmetry, and a broken smile cracked over the face-plate with a soft chuckle escaping those lips. Warsman leaned back and folded his arms, while he gazed upward with no more words spoken. A stolen look about the lounge revealed a great deal to Robin; clothes mingled together in a washing pile, engine oils beside human toiletries, and framed photographs of romantic embraces.

“I feel with him that I finally have a heart to break,” whispered Warsman. “It hurts when I am not with him, while my every thought is consumed by him, and my greatest fear is to lose him. I do not know what the future holds, but just that without him there can _be_ no future.”

“And he feels the same way for you?”

“I believe he yearns for me as I yearn for him. He considers me a partner and an equal, while my departure pushed him back into unhealthy coping mechanisms and training to breaking point, and I feel that he loves me so much that he stumbles without me. He . . . He calls me ‘Nikolai’ in private, something no one else has ever done. I love him.”

A faint blush overcame Warsman’s cheeks. The smile was sincere and bright, reaching his eyes and making them sparkle, and Robin smiled in turn . . . _memories of stolen embraces with Alisa, sharing an umbrella on a rainy night, whispered words of love . . ._ Robin slowly stood and cricked his neck. Warsman followed suit. They stood before one another with an awkward silence, until Robin reached out an aging hand. It hung alone until Warsman took it in a firm grip, and finally they shook with great civility. Robin said:

“I know you do not need my blessing, but you have it.”

Warsman bowed his head, before he replaced his gaze. Tears fell. They rolled down his cheeks and onto his trembling lips, as the smile broke lines about his eyes, and a low laugh escaped him, as he squeezed against Robin’s hand. A few more ticks of the clock passed, until Robin gently pulled his hand away from the gentle touch. Warsman wiped at his tears and quickly regained his composure, while he nodded again to Robin.

“ _благодарю вас_ _,_ ” whispered Warsman.

It was a few years since Robin spoke basic Russian . . . _‘I am eternally grateful’_ . . . _‘thank you so much’_. . . whatever the meaning, the intent was clear. They dripped with happiness and relief, enough that he could only nod in return with a non-committal nod, and – before he made his quick exit – he clapped a hand on Warsman’s shoulder and squeezed. He let his hand fall, as he quickly darted toward the front door with his head held low. The previous doubt and concern fled from him, as he whispered his goodbyes, as he knew one thing:

They would be happy.


End file.
